by Tony Roberts
* * *
In Philadelphia Whitby was studying the letter that had been delivered on the evening of his operation. Since that time he’d slowly recovered and been incensed to find his hand had gone, as had much of his crime ‘empire’. Others had moved in and the sheriff had been making things awkward too, investigating the fire.
Only Hartley remained of his former gang, and the two nursed a burning hatred for the man who’d caused so much trouble for them. They were stunned to learn, by the letter, that Case Lonnergan survived and had been spirited out of the city. The anonymous writer had promised to reveal the whereabouts of Lonnergan at a future date. Why this unknown person was helping them Whitby didn’t care or even think about; all he wanted was to find him and hang, draw and quarter the bastard. Then maybe he’d hurt him a little. Whitby’s life of crime was finished in Philadelphia; maybe he could set up something elsewhere. It was a few days later a second letter arrived stating Lonnergan had been seen making his way to Virginia by wagon and it was probable he was somewhere west of Richmond.
Whitby decided to go to Virginia and settle the score.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On reflection, Case mused while nailing another plank to a post; setting up just as winter was arriving wasn’t the best time to start a farm. It had been a cold one and only now, in April, was it beginning to thaw. The hills were still white with frost and the remnants of the winter snows, and the ground hard as iron. Driving wooden posts into the ground had been hard work, but the boundary fencing had been in a bad way.
Thankfully their neighbors, the O’Driscolls, the Bradys and the Burkes, had all helped and the young men of each family had volunteered the more after Ann had brought out hot drinks during one particularly cold day. Ann was fast becoming the local attraction and Case had been too happy to step back away from her. He’d caught sight of her expression a few times, a puzzled thoughtfulness, but she had her hands full with the young bucks competing for her attention.
Mary had voiced her willingness to keep Ann indoors unless the work had gotten done, and the barn, which had been the project most needed to be completed, had been done in record time. In return, Case volunteered to help with various chores on the other farms whenever his strength was needed. The more he stayed away from the McGuires, the less chance the Brotherhood would see them as ‘tainted’ and do something about it.
He wondered how those bastards were keeping an eye on him, for they must be. This was their territory, and someone somewhere would be in their ranks amongst those who frequented the farm.
As for the farm, it was a modest one. A farmhouse, a barn, a dairy shed, a pig pen – all of which were empty of course – and ten fields. The hills rose to the north-west and west, rising to form the Allegheny Mountains in the distance, but all round in their locale it was fertile land which yielded tobacco or livestock farms. The tobacco plantations mainly employed slave labor but the immediate farmsteads did not.
Thanks to Mary’s skill with the needle and thread, she made some good quality clothing which she sold in Lynchburg and from that they bought farm tools and a few animals. Not much, but enough to start. Patrick helped out with the chickens, as did Bridget, but Case got the pigs. After all, the youngsters could hardly wrestle a saddleback to the ground and Case often found himself plowing through mud holding onto a pig for dear life, encouraged by laughing children.
Case named the pigs Bacon and Apple Sauce, mostly out of a spiteful wish for revenge. Mary scolded him but as Bridget, Patrick and even Elizabeth loved the names, they stuck. Mary repaired the clothes, even Case’s, for they were still poor and could hardly afford new ones. Case had a bed in a spare room and kept to himself, wondering if he could leave the family, for he dreaded the presence of the Brotherhood. What they would do next was anyone’s guess, but Case figured they were waiting for orders from high up.
He was musing about when he ought to quit, weighing up when Patrick would be old enough and strong enough to take over, when a tiny knock came at his door. He sat up, still dressed, and softly gave permission for whomever it was to enter.
Ann appeared, holding a tallow candle, and she quickly shut the plank door behind her. She was dressed in her nightshirt; a long white gown with short sleeves and gathered at the waist before falling to her ankles. Her hair was untied and hung down past her shoulders. “A bit late for you to be up, Miss Ann,” Case said.
“I need to talk to ye, Mr. Lonnergan – Case.”
Case shifted sideways and patted the end of the bed. Ann hesitated, then as if making up her mind, sat down, her back straight, ill at ease. Case found his gaze straying to her erect nipples that showed through her gown, but that was due to the cold rather than excitement, he mused. “Okay,” he said, “I’m listening.”
She didn’t speak right away, but gathered her thoughts, wondering how to start. “When we first spoke in Philadelphia, it was just after ye saved us from that horrible man Whitby. Ye didn’t need to do that, did ye?”
“No. But you were being taken advantage of and I can’t stand that.”
Ann smiled briefly. “Ye’re a decent man, Case. Unusual, but decent. When we talked after in the poor house I thought ye were very protective towards me – especially towards me. Oh, I know the young men fancy me and all that nonsense, and I thought ye liked me too. But since the journey here ye’ve tried to avoid me; don’t argue, I’ve noticed it.”
Case said nothing. The candlelight flickered, throwing shadows across the small room over the wood paneled walls and the floorboards. Case wanted to take her, to make love to her, but he knew he couldn’t. She was not even eighteen yet; she’d have a normal life and children by one of the other men, something that a life with him would lack. He also knew that some day, sooner rather than later, he’d have to go and move on as he’d done countless times in his past. He felt a crushing weight in his chest at the pain of it all.
“So I want to know, Case, why ye’ve gone all cool over me? I saw it in yer eyes in Philadelphia ye wanted me. Ma noticed it too and she warned me off getting’ too close to ye; she said ye were nothin’ but trouble and would give me pain. But if ye’d told me ye wanted me I’d let ye. These young lads here are sweet enough but what do they know of the world? Ye’re much more of a man, one who’d be a wonderful husband and father.”
Case felt the crushing pain almost overwhelm him. He could have her, take her. She’d not resist him, but after he’d sated his desire, what then? “Ann, what you say is true enough, but what you don’t know is that I’m no farmer. I’m no family man. I’ve given women nothing but hurt and unfulfilled hopes in the past. Your ma was right in that. Oh not because I wanted to hurt, but because it is what I am. I’m a soldier, a fighter. I always end up involved in a war or fight come what may. And perhaps there’ll be a war here soon. Then I’d go to war, and leave this place for another.”
Ann stared at him in disbelief. “A war? Here? This place is a paradise!”
Case grunted in amusement. He shifted his position so his back was resting against the wall. “I’ve heard things over the winter, Ann. There’s the Texas thing down south. Mexico won’t let that rest and there’s many people here who would rather go to war with Mexico than let Texas slip back under their rule. There’s plenty of people here from what I’ve heard who are all in favor of annexing Texas. I can’t see things will remain peaceful for much longer. Then there’s the problem with the British.”
“With the British?”
“Over Oregon in the north. The border is disputed and neither side is backing down. Unless they sort it over the bargaining table there’ll be a fight over that too. So either way, I see war coming. And if there is, that’s what I do, and I’ll be going.”
“Oh for God’s sake, Case, can’t ye let it go? Do ye have to go fight? Fighting never did any good, and ye’d be of far more use here getting this place up and running, so ye would. Damn those who want to fight, let them!”
“There’s an old saying Ann. ‘Men t
ire faster of love and singing than they do war.’ It’s true. I tire of fighting, but I get bored faster of peace when I’m not fighting. I don’t love fighting, but it’s a life I feel comfortable with. I don’t particularly take well to farming or socializing, and I’ve done more than my fair share of each in the past. You wait and see; if war with Mexico does come those young bucks who fight for your hand from the other farms will flock to sign up.”
Ann shook her head; whether it was through disbelief or irritation Case wasn’t sure. “So ye’re saying no to my offer of being yer wife?”
Case paused, momentarily surprised. “Heck Ann, I thought it was the man who proposed! You’re proposing marriage to me?”
Ann nodded, her hands clutching each other.
“I can’t,” he said softly, “I’m sorry Ann.”
She stood up abruptly. “Then I’m sorry too, Mr. Lonnergan. Sorry for wasting yer time. Good night.” She picked up the candle from the small window ledge she’d placed it and rushed out, but not before Case caught sight of the tears running down her face. The door shut hard and Case remained staring at it for a moment. “Damn, damn, damn!” He thumped the bed a few times, then placed his head in his hands, cursing himself and his life.
* * *
Spring brought more than an awakening of nature to America. Father Lynch received a visitation in mid-April, one he had been expecting for some time. A tall, well-dressed man stood at the entrance to the house, top hat and cane in his hand. He had a shock of white curls on his head and facial hair covering his cheeks yet he had no beard or mustache.
“I have come from London,” he announced in a loud, booming voice to Mrs. Sawyer, “on a matter of importance for Father Lynch. I am a representative of Clark, Montague and Grayson, Solicitors of Law. I need to speak to Father Lynch. Is he home?”
“Oh yes he is. You are?” She was suitably awed by the tall and confident man, and he presented her with a neat embossed card.
“I am Charles Stavely, a partner in the firm.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Sawyer stared at the card for a moment as though it was going to sprout wings and fly past her into the house. Please come in. Father Lynch is in the back room.”
Stavely smiled and was shown the sitting room. He gave the housekeeper his cloak and sat, waiting patiently. A few moments later Father Lynch appeared and Stavely stood and shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Father,” Stavely began. “I have come from London on a matter of the utmost importance.” He presented the priest with another card, but this one wasn’t one that connected him to any law business. It was of a stylized fish, nothing more. The priest felt his heart turn over.
“Mrs. Sawyer, I shall be unavailable for any other visitor for the immediate future. You may retire as I will not be needing anything further today, thank you.”
The housekeeper nodded and shut the door behind her, a little concerned but obedient to the parish priest. She climbed the stairs to her room and decided to have an early night.
Down in the sitting room Stavely nodded towards the door. “Is it safe to talk?”
“Yes,” Lynch responded. “She’s a trusting soul.”
“Good. I have come from London with instructions from the Elder.” Stavely passed Lynch a letter, neatly embossed with an address in London. Lynch drew in a shocked breath when he saw who had written the letter. “Of course you will never reveal the identity of this person to anyone ever,” Stavely said, “or you will forfeit your life.”
“I know my duty to the Brotherhood,” Lynch said, passing the letter back. Stavely turned and threw it into the crackling fire where it burned to destruction.
“Good. Now, tell me, what exactly you have done after informing us of the arrival of the Beast in Philadelphia.”
“He fell foul of a local criminal called Whitby. In the course of their feud the Beast was sorely wounded and Whitby injured. I decided to send the Beast with a family of Irish immigrants to our cell in Lynchburg. It is run by Initiate Schofield.”
“I know of the name,” Stavely inclined his head. “What of this Whitby?”
“Whitby was intent of hunting down the Beast. He was making things difficult in his search and this also alerted the local sheriff. I sent Whitby off to the Richmond area, thus putting him out of the way here, and the sheriff was advised the criminal who he was looking for wasn’t Longinus – he is called Lonnergan by the way – but Whitby. I think the sheriff has wasted enough time in looking for these people. He asked me a few questions but I told him I believed Whitby was no longer in Philadelphia. I have not been visited by the sheriff recently.”
“Is this Whitby dangerous to our cell in Lynchburg?”
“I don’t think so. He’s a useful tool to use against the Beast and he harbors a burning desire for revenge. I haven’t told him it’s Lynchburg but he strikes me as a resourceful man and I think he’ll find out sooner or later where he is.”
Stavely thought for a moment. “I think I shall pay Schofield a visit and see what the Beast is up to myself. The Elder has given me discretion whether to try to capture the Beast or to keep him under observation. It is important we don’t let him slip through our fingers this time. We have lost him too many times and the Elder feels now is a perfect time to keep the Beast in sight. You have done well, Initiate Lynch.”
“Thank you. Now, may I serve you some tea? We have an excellent Assam here.”
Stavely inclined his head, and the two talked well into the night, planning and plotting, none of which was to Case’s well- being.
The following day Case got up and saw to the pigs as was normal. Bridget appeared, her red hair visible before anything else. She called to the chickens and entered the hen house, searching for eggs. Case grinned and threw out the soiled hay and replaced it with a small amount from the diminishing pile in the barn. He was last to breakfast, but he was normally so. Ann was very quiet and refused to meet his look, so Case shrugged and attacked his food. “I think I’ll go into Lynchburg today,” he said.
“Oh? D’ye have anything in mind?” Mary asked.
“Not for me, but Michael O’Driscoll said he was going in today to buy a few things and I thought I’d go help him. Michael’s likely to be taken advantage of by some people so I think its best I’m there to make sure everything goes well.”
“Ah, a grand idea, so it is,” Mary said. “Could ye see if they have any cotton in the draper’s? I’d love some more if ye don’t mind.”
Case nodded, and soon after breakfast was out walking down the dirt road that led from the farmhouse to the main road that led to the town, a few miles away. Michael would be bringing his cart along shortly so Case didn’t want to miss him. He was there in good time and Michael was pleased to have company. He had two younger brothers and three sisters, and his mother and father were too busy with their farm to spare time to go into town. Michael was normally sent to town to pick up items, but he just didn’t seem to get the best prices for things, and Case suspected the traders took advantage of his simplistic attitude to life and ripped him off. Well today they wouldn’t.
Case of course had another reason for going into town. He’d managed to win money at cards the last time he’d been over the Brady farmstead and had enough to buy a pistol, which was what he wanted. He also wanted to learn more about Schofield if he could.
It was time he stopped sitting on his ass and took charge.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lynchburg was busy as hell. The new canal was bringing in more trade from Richmond and the canal warehouses were full to bursting point. The cart was left in a side street next to the main street and Michael told Case he was going to the ironmongers’ across the road. Case nodded and told him he’d be along after he’d done his buying. The gunsmith wasn’t busy, thankfully. Case leaned over the counter and nodded at the glass case containing a series of pistols. “What you got for sale there, mister?”
The gunsmith checked Case over and his lips twitched in distaste. A scruffy looking guy, probabl
y dirt poor. “Well, I think you’d be looking for a revolver, five shot chamber, one made by Paterson’s of New Jersey. It’s called a Colt.”
Case looked at the silver colored pistol. The center was made of a cylindrical chamber where the bullets could be fitted. The handgrip was of wood and the barrel had a foresight. Case handled it and thought it was heavy for a pistol but one he could handle fairly well. “Why is it so cheap?” he asked, checking the cost in the display case.
“The firm went bust eighteen months back. People didn’t buy it enough, but it works well and in the hand of a big guy like yourself its child’s play. Texas Rangers use these a fair bit.”
Case asked what caliber it was. The gunsmith smiled. “This is a point-three-six. As they ain’t making these no more I’ll throw in a box of ammo free.”
Case couldn’t believe the offer. It seemed a decent gun, a type he’d never used before, and here was the guy practically giving it to him. “You got a deal, mister,” he said happily.
After buying the colt and loading it, he purchased a holster, which, he couldn’t believe, cost more than the gun! Wearing it round his waist he felt a little awkward but guessed he’d get used to it soon enough. He made his way over to the ironmongers and found Michael being pressured by the owner into accepting a very inflated price for a couple of spades and a hoe.
“You don’t want to accept that price for those,” Case announced his arrival. “He’s cheating you.”
Michael looked relieved at Case’s arrival. He could never work out what was a proper price and got so confused when these shopkeepers began talking fast at him. The shopkeeper however was not pleased to see Case.
“Hey, you keep out of this mister; I’m conducting a sale to this guy here.”
“He’s my neighbor, and a friend. I don’t like seeing anyone taking advantage of him, you understand? Sell him a fair price for these and you got a deal. Overcharge and I’ll go outside and tell folks you try cheating on good honest farmer boys. See how they take to that. I’m willing to bet a fair number of people in town today are farmer boys.”